Grizzly Bear Creek
by Nicholas Trandahl
Weary in a loft of rock,
pine, and golden leaves,
I sit next to my pack.
Yellow blessings
fall around me.
I eat smoked meats,
drink cool water,
and play my harmonica—
rusty October songs
flowing,
flowing,
down Grizzly Bear Creek.
Slender ribbon
of crystal water,
swarming
with sinuous trout
in the throes of spawning.
Red squirrels scampering—
mouthfuls
of dead leaves to
insulate their enclaves.
High granite crags
tearing like primordial blades
through a cloak of pine,
patched with golden groves
of aspen.
Hills of brittle quartz and mica,
topped with a layer
of mossy loam.
Herbaceous autumn wind
over the marsh—
cattails swaying.
Snakes warming
on sun-baked granite,
even at harvestime.
A whitetail doe,
unafraid
in golden light.
October-lit drainage—
golden-orange artery.
Aspens
in the pines.